Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“She’s too fancy for us. Our food isn’t good enough for her,” Sterling keeps going. I know they shouldn’t, but his words hurt me “I reckon you’re too fancy to join the bonfire too?”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Sterling? Maria is a guest here,” Cam hisses. I push the plate away from me. Any appetite I had has now faded.
“I have AGS. I should have said something.” They both turn back my way from glaring at each other.
“What?”
“AGS?”
They both speak at the same time.
“Alpha-GAL syndrome.” I push back from my chair. “I can’t eat beef, pork, lamb, or any other mammal. It will make me really sick.” Sterling’s eyes widen. I’m sure he’s thinking it’s another reason to get me out of here.
It took the doctors forever to figure out what was wrong with me when I was younger. I kept having these allergic reactions that no one could explain. Finally they narrowed it down, and I haven’t had an episode in a really long time.
“I can get you something else.” Cam walks over, grabbing the plate.
“I’m really not that hungry.” It’s not a lie. My stomach is in knots with Sterling staring my way. “I’m a bit drained. I need to sleep, and I need to talk to my father.”
“Are you sure?” Cam pushes.
“Yes, you’re so kind.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Sorry, Sterling. I don’t think I’ll make it this evening, but thank you kindly for the invitation. I hope you have a good time with your friends.”
He doesn’t respond but keeps on staring at me. I quickly release Cam’s hand and make my escape back to my haunted room.
I’d rather be in there with the dead than be around Sterling at this point. Maybe going back home isn’t such a terrible idea.
CHAPTER 7
STERLING
It’s almost ten, well after dinnertime has passed, when I knock on Maria’s door. Predictably, she doesn’t answer right away. I rub my hand over my hair. After Maria left the room, Cam lit into me, telling me how just because I was a Justice didn’t mean I could treat people like shit. I knew that. I’m not the type of person who thinks just because my wallet is thick that I’m better than anyone despite what some of my former classmates think, although canceling the bonfire at the last minute because the princess is in town isn’t going to go over well.
I’ll make it up to everyone, but first, I gotta start here.
I knock again. “It’s the dickhead from earlier. I’ve got something for you, and if you don’t open the door, I think it’s going to explode in my face.”
The lie works, and the door pops open immediately. Maria’s pretty eyes are narrowed suspiciously. “I see nothing explosive.”
“It was a lie,” I admit cheerfully and kick the door open. “But I do have something in my hands.” I walk over to the writing desk in the room and set down the tray with the glass of water, milk, silverware, and dome-covered plate. She hasn’t lost her wariness and stays about five feet away. With a flourish, I pull off the dome and then wave the silver piece over the food, trying to send waves of good smells in Marie’s direction. It must work because she creeps closer.
“What is that?”
“Batter fried mushrooms in a sweet and sour sauce with a side of rice and sautéed green beans. No meat, all taste. Better come while it’s hot.” I pop one of the mushrooms in my mouth and crunch down. “Not bad.”
“You didn’t poison it, I see.” She takes another step closer. Her stomach growls, and I scratch my upper lip to hide a grin.
“At least not the one I ate,” I tease. I jerk my head toward the plate. “Come over here before it gets cold. Nothing worse than someone not eating a plate of hot food. Plus, I can hear your stomach. Hell, the whole house probably can. Cam’s going to think there’s a storm outside.”
Maria slides all the way over and into the desk chair. “It’s not that loud.”
“It was. I think they heard it in Dallas and took cover, thinking it was an air raid drill.”
She punches me in the gut, and it hurts. I back up out of fist range and lean against the bed post.
“Sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
She presses her lips together and gives me an assessing look. I guess she’s trying to figure out if I’m sincere.
“Why were you mean?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Feeling ornery about stuff, I guess.” I don’t want to admit that it’s because I’m feeling attracted to her in ways that just aren’t healthy. I don’t want to get tied down to someone right now, and I’m not the type to fuck and run. I don’t think she’s the type to want that kind of thing either. Even though she’s only eighteen, she seems like someone you should marry in a church surrounded by doves or some shit like that.